This third chapter moves us closer to the city again, but down in an expanding industrial area. Heneroch Finan (mentioned in the last chapter) is a major character and we will follow his motivations directly and obliquely as time goes by. This chapter shows us a little of the man and how he treats people.
This chapter is just under about 2,200 words. shorter than 1 & 2, but still on the longish side. Some names are still to be decided on
If any one would be interested in collabing on art, drop me a line.
In Part 1 Chapter 2 we met Tandhu, saw her deal with a turncoat, and found out about some of the ruthless methods of the cities secret police, The Inspectorate.
The building was low slung, the roof pitched narrowly so as not to waste materials or space. The brick work was fresh, new. The colour of the sand used to press into the fresh clay before they dried made the bricks yellow, almost the color of old, worn, gold. In time the sand would wear, revealing the clay beneath, and the building would take on the patina of age other buildings in Sar-Chona wore.
The end of the building faced towards the road which led back towards the docks and the bottom of the city. It had a large opening in the middle with twin doors of stout timbers and strengthening iron straps. Over to the left was a normal sized door constructed in a similar way, looking like a toy representation of the main item
A chill wind blew in from the ocean and grey clouds scudded overhead, suggesting rain was on its way. An ælectropede stood before the building, thick mud which splayed out as its feet came to a stop now oozed back to cover the flat pedestals. The machine was palpably new, the body and paint free were from the scrapes and dings which would accumulate over time. The six legs and underside already showed the results of travelling along muddy roads and across the worksite.
A group of four men had traveled to the worksite in the machine and now stood before the building. Two wore heavy overalls which bore the name of the company which had constructed the building. Their feet were shod with thick workboots showing the effects of long use and wear. Of the other two one carried a leather document roll and wore a voluminous waxed coat which seemed to be constructed mainly of pockets, and pockets filled with items. He clearly deferred to the fourth man.
The fourth man, Heneroch Finan, wore countryman’s garb. He could comfortably walk into a posh salon or embassy, but the material looked like it could withstand brushing against a rough surface and with the leather boots and cap would probably provide decent protection for inclement weather.
He took in the building, appearing to weigh it with his look, comparing the exterior against an inner image of what he’d intended, and judging any differences. He glanced at the mud they stood in, which was deep enough to cover his leather boots to the ankle. ‘Let’s get inside then,’ he said. The four picked their way cautiously through the muddy morass towards the standard sized door. ‘When will this area be cobbled?’
‘It depends on the weather. But unless there’s an unusually dry spell earlier it’ll be done by the equinox. Until then we’ll be laying cords down starting tomorrow, and then a thick layer of gravel. We’ll keep that topped up until the cobbles are down.’
They reached the door and the man who’d responded reached into his coat and retrieved a key. He handed it towards Heneroch. ‘Seems right that you should get open up Heneroch.’
‘I’m not precious about things like that. It’s just a place to work. Beyond that, Goucheil, we’re not quite at move in stage, are we?’ He tilted his head and looked at the un-landscaped surroundings. ‘Will this be ready for us to start moving machinery in next week?’
Goucheil nodded, chastened. ‘Yes,’ he said. Then turned and unlocked the door. It opened outwards and he waited while Finan and the other two went in.
Their feet crinkled a thick brown paper which had been put down over the painted concrete floor to prevent mud being worked into the material before its owners took possession.
The door they came through opened to a reception office with a wall to wall counter which flapped open on the right side, allowing access behind the counter and to a door which led to a long corridor with a blank wall on the right, which separated the office area from the workfloor. On the left hand side a succession of small offices ran the length of the building, each with a door and window into the hallway.
The walls were a uniform greige, not quite grey, nor yet the brown-ness of beige. It was a nothing a colour, a blank canvas to be completed in a manner desired by the ultimate owners of the building.
Goucheil’s companion lifted the barrier and they walked down the corridor peering into each room, observing their uniformity of finish, the uniformity of light allowed in by the thin windows sat high up on the wall. Goucheil attempted to talk about the project, the rooms they were looking at, but Heneroch and his companion stayed silent. The companion stayed in the corridor, holding the leather roll and keeping out of the way.
At the bottom of the corridor there was a toilet space. Heneroch pressed the water flush in each of the stalls and watched the bowls drain and fill, he turned the taps on all three washbowls. His face remained impassive.
They went through a door into the woorkfloor. The bare concrete slab had been painted a bright non-slip white which seemed to glow faintly in the light which came through windows on the roof. Solid beams supported the roof, and held light fittings which were yet to be connected to a generator.
‘It’s all done, Heneroch,’ Goucheil said. ‘Even with the delays in getting materials and the weather issues. And there’ll be wood and gravel to hold down the mud until we can get the yard done in the spring. You could move your generator and machinery in and get going tomorrow if you wanted.’ The tone was defiant, but it was defiance underpinned by worry. Would the man fulfil the contract? It had been a good price, but Heneroch was an unknown quantity in the city, a newcomer in reality if not name. Goucheil vaguely remembered the father, a Council member who remained on it by virtue of influence from a grandfather, and the fortune he had built, and his son and grandson whittled away through poor choices and profligacy. But that was thirty years ago and the the boy who disappeared after the death of his parents was returned with new wealth and what seemed a more focused idea of how to spend it.
‘It is done, Goucheil. And a good looking job, despite the morass outside.’ He turned and said the man with the leather roll, ‘Give him his draught. He’ll want to get it to his bankers today I guess, with payday being tomorrow.’
The man unclipped the roll and it slid open. A large bankers draught lay visible, the paper heavy with gilt lettering in highly stylised script. It was from a bank up on The Bluffs used to dealing with old money, money from foreign places, and those who would aspire to be either.
Goucheil took the proffered draught and held it awkwardly, unprepared to carry such an item, without a corresponding document roll to place it in. He looked at his colleague, who was similarly unprepared and who shrugged in answer to the silent question.
‘Now,’ Heneroch said, ‘If you could give the key to (name), and thank you for coming with us. I’m sure you’ll want to head back to town before the banks shut.’
‘But, you brought us,’ Goucheil said. ‘It’ll take over an hour to get as far as The Lumps from here.’
‘Then I suggest you get going. I still have things to attend to here.’
(Name) stepped over and held his hand out for the key.
Goucheil placed it in his palm, surrendering it with reluctance that holding the means of payment failed to dissipate. There was a feeling of being out-played in a game he didn’t know he’d been partaking in. It took effort to not look at the bankers draught again, to make sure the amount hadn’t mysteriously changed.
He looked at his colleague and tilted his head towards the door they’d come through and started to move off.
‘Did we get keys for the main entrance?’ Heneroch asked.
Goucheil paused and turned. ‘They’re on the hook at the left hand side of the door up there. All oiled and ready to go for you.’ He carried on, hoping that the clouds which had hung so low earlier remained only a threat of rain.
‘Thankyou,’ Heneroch called as the two men exited into the office corridor leading back outside.
Heneroch and (name) stood in silence, listening to the footsteps echo in the empty building. When the exterior door closed with a determined bang Heneroch said to (name), ‘Let’s look at the plan.’
(Name) pulled a second sheet from the roll, this one with a plan of the building in it. He stood next to Heneroch and they both looked at the lines on the paper, occasionally glancing up to compare the representation with the reality.
‘I bet this will feel much smaller once the machines and the people are in,’ (name) said, ‘noisier too.’
‘A building always does. But I need it full and noisy before it can start making any money. How are the shipping contracts coming along?’
‘Slowly. The local shippers don’t want to commit to filling their holds when you aren’t producing anything. There reluctance is influencing the brokers for other cities. Of course, most of the brokers are locals as well.’
‘Always the same. No one wants to move until they see someone else doing it, or it’s already a huge success. Keep at it. And hopefully, but the time Solstice party season is over, I’ll have impressed an ambassador or two and they’ll pass word to their shipping representatives.’
Heneroch thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers and spun around slowly, pivoting on his right heel, looking at the space and imagining it full and busy. The money he’d made while away from Sar-Chona had seemed vast, but the reality of building a solid base in the city, of creating tangible things as well as creating the intangible connections required, were diminishing the reserves quicker than his cautious estimates had anticipated.
Buying, selling, adventuring, that was the easy way to make money. Well, he found it easy. This, though? Again he found himself wondering if he really wanted to make the effort. He thought of his early life in the city. The tutors, the school along The Finger, his parents.
Since returning to the city he hadn’t been to the family vault in the city crypt, the huge caverns dug into The Finger where the wealthy interred their dead. There was no point, he’d still be an orphan. Maybe, when he’d accomplished his goal, then he’d go and… And what? They’d still be dead and he’d still be an orphan. If the thing wasn’t paid for any an annuity he’d do away with it.
Heneroch blinked, and stopped his rotation. “I think we’ve seen everything we need to see today. You have everything lined up to start coming in.’
‘Yes.’
‘Start tomorrow. Start tonight if it’s possible. Let’s get back to town. I need to try and speak to some people.’
‘Shippers?’
‘Well, their owners.’
Outside the sky was still dull and grey, but dry, though surely not for much longer. They squelched through the mud to the ælectropede and went one to each side, lifted the door up, and sat on their seats, while trying to scrape mud off their boots.
‘Uggh, forget it,’ Heneroch finally said. The thing needs cleaned anyway.’ He reached up and swung his door down. Before (name) had done the same the power unit for the machine was whirring to life. A sound somewhere between a crackle and a hiss emanated from the rear of the vehicle and various dials set before Heneroch moved in response to the energy available.
He glanced at (name) to make sure he was ready, and set off. The off-feet lifted from the mud with a jerk and the machine lurched. Heneroch adjust the power, hoping to smooth the motion out, but as the off-feet set down and the on-feet lifted there was a similar lurch and he accepted it was the mud. It hadn’t been as noticeable when they arrived, possibly because the vehicle hadn’t been sat full weight in the morass.
Motion smoothed off as they reached the hard compacted pathway which led from the city out towards the farmlands up from the city, and he fed power in until they moved at seed which had them rocking in a motion which almost reminded him of being at sea.
After a few minutes they approached, then passed, two men walking, hunched against the prevailing chill wind. Goucheil and his companion looked confused as the ælectropede lolloped past them.